Sunday 12th December
Day 235 (17 lost blog days)
Writing this after a gap of seventeen days is like riding my bike again after an accident, my knees grazed. I feel wobbly - out of my groove. All the days have blurred. I miss the easy ebb and flow of the holiday hours with my sisters in the Algarve sunshine.
It’s late now, the heating has gone off. The dining room table is scattered with Christmas cards and envelopes, letters, stamps, address labels. This year one name - my uncle who died in February - is not on the list any more.
Now I see that this annual card writing ritual is about remembering as well as keeping in touch with all the dear people in my life. That delicate spider’s web of love and friendship that reaches back into the past but holds me close in the now - still weaving silver.
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